I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. Who me is. Or even if there is a me anymore. Other than those I live with my existence is invalid. I am a ghost amongst the living.
I know what I am; mother, wife, daughter. Yet not who I am or even if I’m anyone at all.
Anyone can be something. It’s a label. Yet how can you be someone?
Once upon a time I could talk about myself. I was vivid and animated. I could tell you about my name, age, my hobbies, my likes and dislikes, my friends, the places I go, the things I do, the books I read, the music I listen to, the things I watch.
Once upon a time I could tell you my hopes and my dreams.
I have two names yet both feel alien to me. People have names. I feel too empty to be a person. I don’t need a name anymore. There’s nobody to use it.
I can’t remember the last time I read a book or played a CD. Once books and music were as vital as blood to me.
I watch two things on TV yet probably couldn’t tell you much about either.
I can’t afford clothes and pregnancy aside I’m so overweight nothing would fit anyway. I live in two pairs of jeans. Only one of these fit.
It’s my birthday next month. There’s nothing I want. Nothing affordable anyway. When you’re nothing, you need nothing. Even if I was given twenty pounds I wouldn’t know what to buy. I’d spend it on the baby. She is someone. She’ll need stuff. There’s stuff she’ll like.
I neither go anywhere nor do anything and the only person to chat about my empty days with is myself. Only she’s not interested. In me. She’s not interested in anything.
I have no likes it dislikes. No style. No presence.
I just … am.
I can’t talk about myself as there is nothing to say.
I can’t describe myself because there’s nobody inside.
And I’m scared.
And I’m lonely.
And maybe I’m not here at all.
Maybe I never was.
What if the me I remembered died. And nobody told me.
That would explain a lot.
You can only fade so much until you disappear.
I can’t see myself anymore.
They say when you stop dreaming it’s time to die.
What if they didn’t mean literally? Physically?
What if they meant inside?
I think I’m dead.
I think I died a long time ago.
I can’t climb out of me.
Because there is no me.
And I’m terrified.